Page 14 of Rough Daddy
The door opens silently, and I lean in, hand resting on the smooth brass knob, my eyes scanning. The desk is covered in small tools and pink and purple plastic parts. There's a legal pad with diagrams and notes in black ink.
I tiptoe closer. The room has a faint scent of Beau. There’s not much other than the desk and a tall bookshelf with what looks like vintage car manuals, the sight of which lights up my heart.
Another clink from downstairs. I know this crazy man will be bolting up the stairs to see if I drowned in the toilet if I take too long, so I lean over the desk and take it all in.
"What the hell?" I press my fingers to my lips, reading the black scratchy writing.
Rechargeable battery—8 hours. Multiple settings—start low.Taped to the pages are anatomy diagrams of female genitalia that look like they are from medical textbooks.
Then, there are theparts.
I pick up a disassembled vibrator, still in pieces, and stare at it like it might explain itself.
Jesus Christ. Beau Boone has been studying sex toys like they're carburetors.
Five
Beau
The same plate gets scrubbed for the third time while I try not to think about how Tessa's ass looked going up my stairs.
I shoved my hands into the scalding water meant to soak the dishes, to keep from unloading what feels like ten pounds of fucking sperm into my favorite boxers.
She's every teenage fantasy and dirty old man temptation I’ve ever had wrapped up in a bundle that should not be in my house.
The urge to chase her up those stairs and slam her against the bathroom door has my head pounding as hard as my balls. I’d fuck her so hard she’d have internal bleeding.
Fuck.
See? I can’t even think about fucking her without imagining how I’d hurt her.
What's a small-town mechanic like me going to do with Tessa Quinn anyway?
We’re both playing games, and there's no ending this with a win-win.
Still, I fucking know because I’ve never come close to feeling anything like this before: I'm balls deep in love with her. I brace my soapy hands on the edge of the sink.
My online obsession was one thing—I could talk myself out of the idea that this was someone real.
But now?
I’m completely fucked.
I have months of her content saved on my phone. Screenshots of her smile. Videos I've watched so many times I could recite them word for word. Videos where I've imagined that mouth wrapped around my cock, those perfect tits bouncing while she rides me. She thinks I'm just some mechanic helping a stranded stranger.
She has no clue I've been obsessed with Tessa Quinn since long before she crashed into my car wash, all thanks to my brother Jack’s wife helping me set up my new phone and insisting I get an Instagram account like I’m fucking fifteen years old.
I grab the dish back out of the water and shove it into the rack so hard it cracks.
Shit, footsteps on the stairs. Even the sound of her walking makes me fucking hard.
"So.” She cocks her head like a cat. “Interesting hobby you've got up there."
She's leaning against the door frame, holding the pink vibrator I disassembled then reassembled yesterday, inspecting it with a smirk and a little giggle.
Christ, I want those hands on me instead. I want that giggle right in my ear. I want those dark eyes wide while I feel the tip of her tongue lapping around the head of my dick.
Fuck. No. I have to remember who I am.WhatI am. A fucking monster who destroys everything he touches.
